Tepid
by Kosaka
Summary: Amazing, really--the way you can live your entire life without understanding who you are. Bill ignored the emptiness until Fleur walked out on him. After that, he knew something had to change. And then? ...then there was Viktor. BillxViktor --for Fey
1. The Signs

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd obviously have done it the way I wanted it the first time. That's what makes it FANfiction. And as it is a fanfic--written by the fans, for the fans--it is also obvious that it's not helping me pay any bills. Got it? Good.

A/N: This fic was written as a birthday present for the awesome Fey, based on one of the pairings we have in an expansive rp that defies all logic and common sense, but is still just _pure love_. Hope you enjoy it, Fey.

I'm rating this 'M' just to be on the safe side. To be honest I wrote this a while ago and have been waiting to upload it...and while waiting, sort of forgot half of what happened. Most likely it leans more towards 'T', but better safe than sorry.

**Tepid**

_**tepid:**_

_1) moderately warm; lukewarm_

_2) lacking in emotional warmth or enthusiasm; half-hearted_

_**I. The Signs**_

_(The Journal of William Arthur Weasley, undated entry no.1)_

I'm not sure why I didn't see the signs. Wasn't looking, I guess. Turns out when Fleur walked out on me I was surprised--shouldn't have been, really. It was probably fated since our first 'hello'.

Fleur really loved me, you know. I loved that about her. I mean, here's this smart, kind, absolutely gorgeous woman who can get anyone she wants, and all she wants is me. I'm not being modest here; I know I'm attractive, but that was never the point. Fleur's beyond beautiful and she knows it, so I knew whatever it was she saw in me went deeper than my dashing good looks. I never did figure out what that something was, but I still figured I was pretty lucky.

So, here's this basically perfect woman and she loves me--really, deeply _loves me_, right? I'm not a kid anymore, so marrying her just seemed like the only sensible thing to do. She accepted, of course, and I figured things were going pretty good. There was just this one tiny snag--I was never actually in love with her. I figured by the time she noticed I would be. Whoops.

Wow, that really makes me sound like a total arse, huh? I guess I should explain myself. I really do like Fleur. A lot. I like her more than anyone, except my family, and I really adore my family, do anything for 'em, you know? Anything. Just name it. So there's that. Even now I really _like_ Fleur, and I wanted her the second I laid eyes on her. I guess that goes without saying. But those two things, I know from experience, don't necessarily add up to love. On their own they just add up to a heaping serving of _'like', _which is completely different.

Charlie's been in love. Ron's madly in love right now. Love is this thing that just _consumes you_, burns you from the inside out, and makes it almost impossible to make sensible decisions. It takes over your entire life when you're in it, and when you're out of it it's like you forget how to go on. It's a force of nature--sort of has a way of devastating anything in its path. I know what love is. That's why I can say with absolute certainty that I've never felt it. Not once. Not for anyone. ...and not for Fleur, no matter how hard I tried. Charlie knows I'm like this. I think dad suspects it too. So knowing that it's always been this way for me, it just didn't seem relevant that I wasn't in love with Fleur.

At least, it didn't seem relevant until she noticed. It took her a while. There was the war, the honeymoon, the baby. Victoire is already over a year old. Adorable little thing, really. It's a shame that I'll probably never see her again. I don't know when Fleur started to notice, but if I think about it things were kind of tense for a while before she trundled down the stairs with her suitcases and the baby. I was sitting at the kitchen table smoking--not _real_ smoking, they're these herbal cigarettes, full of all these ingredients I'd rather not think about that help with the pain--my scars still ache sometimes. I asked her what was up and she just exploded. She said I was just going through the motions, that she deserved better. Said Victoire deserved better too. How was I supposed to answer? She was right. But just because I didn't love her didn't mean I didn't hate that she was leaving me. It doesn't mean that I don't still think it sucks. It doesn't mean I'm not allowed to feel like I've lost something important, because I do feel that way, I do think those things. And even if I didn't love her, of course I miss her, even though I know she'd tell me I don't miss her enough, and she'd be right about that too. I guess I just needed to say that, you know, that I miss her even if I still don't love her.

***

**VIXEN OR VICTIM? FRENCH FOP KRUM'S LATEST CONQUEST?**

Viktor threw the paper on the table in annoyance. Fleur had come to visit him when she was broken-hearted and in need of a friend she knew wouldn't spend the day bashing Bill Weasley. He could tell from the moment she'd apparated in front of his apartment that she desperately needed a day where she didn't need to think about Bill. Her friends, she said, didn't really understand--bashing the man she loved, calling him all sorts of names, that didn't help, even if most of the time she did agree with them. He was horrible! Married, with a baby! And he didn't love her. She didn't think he ever had. All of that, Viktor was able to see in his friend's eyes the moment she appeared before him. He did the only thing he could think of--he took her to a show, and they went to dinner at a French restaurant. He didn't really like French food much, to be honest, but he'd never told Fleur that. Expensive restaurants were better for not getting accosted by fans anyway, and she'd been too busy chattering on about being back in France and how what they were eating was 'only a pale imitation, you must visit me in Paris sometime, Viktor, I will show you what _real_ French food is like', to notice that he had barely touched his own food. But just because they'd had something that vaguely resembled a date to the naked eye did _not_ mean that they were sleeping together and it certainly didn't mean it was okay to accuse Fleur of being a slut in the newspaper.

He sighed. In a way, he supposed this was his fault. Since the war, he had slept with many women and given none of them a second thought afterwards. He hadn't had real feelings for anyone since Hermione, and now that he looked back he couldn't be certain his feelings for her were really love. The more he thought, the more distant it all felt, and the more likely he thought that it may have just been a crush on someone he would always think was smart, charming, and immensely unique.

Lately, a lot of people had accused him of being rather tepid. It disturbed him, because he couldn't remember when he became that way. He knew it hadn't always been so. He'd been a broody teenager, but no one would have accused him of being 'tepid' then. He couldn't deny the truth in it now, though. His relations with women centered around physical gratification and after a week or two he was sick of them. He couldn't keep their names straight and often made them repeat themselves so he knew how he was supposed to answer to questions asked while he wasn't listening. He knew that this was wrong, but if they were only using him for his fame, he couldn't bring himself to feel too guilty about using them for their bodies. His relationship with his family didn't seem to have much substance either. He often wondered how he had managed to live with them as long as he had. Every little quirk drove him mad to the point that he hadn't spoken to any of them in months. He wasn't sure how many. In any case, he thought some time away might help him clear his head. If it didn't work, he would try something else. Anything. He knew he couldn't keep living this way. It was the only thing he was certain of anymore.


	2. Wedding Bells

_**II. Wedding Bells**_

"Viktor! Oh, I'm so glad you were able to make it!" Hermione ran over to him, holding her wedding gown up at the knees so she didn't fall on her face, and soon he found the girl hugging him tightly. He thought he felt a slight baby-bulge under the frilled layers of the empire waist, but he wasn't old fashioned, and it didn't seem at all like a shotgun wedding. Both sets of parents were positively glowing, though Hermione's carried themselves with a bit of extra nervous muggle-ness.

"I managed to rearrange my schedule. You vill only get married once, Herm-own-ninny. It vould be a shame to miss it," he said, patting her back a bit awkwardly until she let go. His words had been a lie. There had been nothing in particular to re-arrange for a winter wedding. It was not Quidditch season and he had no real ties or plans. It was just that he'd made himself sound very busy in his return letter. He'd thought at the time he really didn't want to go see Hermione marry someone else; now he considered it closure. He still thought she was very pretty, but the infatuation he'd had was long gone. Seeing her at her prettiest and feeling no particular stirring of emotion proved that. Hermione had insisted she would keep a pair of seats open for him, in case he managed to find the time at the last minute. Now he was glad for it; her wedding was the excuse he needed to get away from Bulgaria for a while.

They exchanged some pleasantries and Hermione promised she would catch up with him later. "Have to make the rounds, you know?" He was happy for her, really. And he hoped that she really would only be married but the once, because she and Ron seemed to suit one another and bring each other happiness. He got himself a drink and a little plate of appetizers and sat down. It was the second wedding he'd been to in the Weasley's back yard. Today it was snowing; a number of warming spells were cast on the tarpaulins overhead to keep everyone effectively toasty and comfortable. He took a seat near the edge of one and could feel the cooler air outside against the back of his neck. He didn't mind--compared to Bulgaria, this was nothing. He preferred to be left with his thoughts for now, anyway.

Bill and Fleur had also been married here. He thought about that and hoped that the youngest of the Weasley boys was a bit more earnest about his feelings than Bill had turned out to be. It was a shame, because his first impression of Bill had been a good one. He seemed friendly, kind and devoted. Well, it wasn't as if he'd cheated on Fleur, but that didn't change the fact that what had come to pass was most definitely his fault. He had not been honest, and now Fleur was devastated. His loyalty was to the woman first, of course. He didn't really know Bill Weasley very well. They'd only met on a few occasions, and those meetings were brief.

He forced the morbid thoughts from mind and let his gaze trail about the room. A few couples were dancing, but they struck him as about as interesting as drying dishes. He knew a lot of these people, but very few of them enough to strike a conversation up with. Harry, he thought, but he spotted Harry in a far corner near a buffet table, holding up a fork and trying, it would appear, to get Professor Snape to eat something. Snape looked disgusted and pushed the hand away, but Harry was persistent. He watched them go back and forth like this for a few minutes. Harry was busy, it seemed, so he wouldn't bother him.

"Hey."

Viktor startled out of his thoughts. Bill was standing a few feet away, hands shoved carelessly into his pockets. He had the grace to look a little awkward, at least. Viktor didn't answer him. It was rude, but he couldn't think of anything to say in reply to this man so blatantly going out of his way to talk to him.

"Mind if I sit?" Bill plodded on. The last wedding he'd been to was his own, and that one was right here. It was more than a little awkward, and watching Charlie and George mercilessly tease Percy only distracted for but so long. He'd had a dance with Hermione, claiming it was a 'big brother privilege' and gave her the full Bill charm before gently pushing her, flushed, back into Ron's arms. Now he instinctively zoned in on the only other person who had come to the party alone. It was probably his bad karma that it was Viktor Krum. As a Quidditch player, he didn't deny being a fan of Krum's--not obsessive like Ron, but then, he wasn't obsessive about much of anything. That was sort of the problem. ...but as a person, he saw Viktor as 'Fleur's Bulgarian friend' which made this awkward.

Viktor nodded at one of the chairs across the table. Bill ignored this and sat right beside him, uncorked the champagne on the table and poured full glasses for both of them. He held his glass up. "Well, cheers," the red-head said.

"Vhat are ve toasting?" Viktor asked, obviously confused.

Bill shrugged. "Just life in general," he answered.

Viktor didn't see why that was so worth toasting, but he figured Bill meant something more profound like being alive, having survived the war, and being able to see Ron and Hermione so happy. Bill just seemed like that sort of profound person. Viktor thought those things were probably all worth toasting, and so he drank.

They didn't really say anything for a while. They just quietly drank champagne and watched the people around them getting giddy and trashed from their subdued corner. Viktor had noticed Bill shiver a bit at the breeze against his back, but chose not to mention it. He figured Bill was probably thinking--trying to find the best way to say something.

Then, about the time the bottle ran out, Bill finally spoke. He kept staring ahead and asked, "how's she doing?"

Of course. It was about Fleur. "I vas not given the impression you cared," Viktor snipped a bit.

"I care," Bill answered, "just not enough."

Viktor believed him. There was this little hint of remorse in his eyes, like he knew that he'd done everything with Fleur exactly the wrong way, but there was nothing he could do to change it. "She is heartbroken, but she is strong," he answered eventually. "She does not need you."

Bill seemed a little relieved, like he thought that's how things ought to be. She would get over it, and she had the baby, and she would find someone to love her the way he should have loved her soon enough. She would heal. But maybe that was all wrong. Maybe Viktor was only seeing what he wanted to see--a kindred spirit.

"Fleur, you..." he began to say, but it was as if Bill knew the answer before he got the question out.

"I was sure if I could fall for anyone, it would be her," he answered. "I was wrong, and that's disappointing, but it's better that it's happened now."

That seemed like a weird thing to say. Better that it happened now? Better than when? "Better for who?" Viktor asked.

"For Victoire, obviously," Bill answered, looking at Viktor like he was slightly unintelligent. "She's still a baby. By the time she can walk and talk she'll have forgotten all about me. Maybe by then, Fleur will have found someone else. Someone who can be Victoire's dad. She should have a dad, I think, one who'll be there for her and Fleur." _'Someone completely different from me,'_ Bill thought. _'Someone honest. Ugh. I need to quit drinking. I always get so damn depressing when I drink.'_

Viktor stared. He didn't mean to, but what Bill said was very telling. It was cold logic being applied to the things that should be intensely dear to him. Most fathers would fight tooth and nail for the right to see their children, but Bill Weasley didn't have any intention of trying to remain part of Victoire's life. He thought it would be more painful for her if he wasn't there complicating everything. He didn't think Bill's logic was correct, but it confirmed that Bill was also what people would call 'tepid', just like him. "I do not think that a person can learn to love someone, just because they like them. I also do not think that a person can learn to _not_ love someone, just because it is a burden." After he said it, he realized the words must seem out of left field. He felt pretty stupid, but Bill just gave him this warm laugh.

"You're probably right," he said, clapping Viktor on the shoulder with a bemused little smirk. "Sooo, I suppose that begs the question."

"Begs vhat question?"

"Why you're here alone." Bill seemed to be implying that he might still have feelings for Hermione, but he didn't say anything of the sort. He never said anything, no matter whether he approved or not; Viktor could remember Hermione writing something like that about Bill once. She'd said that Ron said that about him. That he just accepts you for what you are, no strings attached. He can do that, Viktor thought, because he's too wrapped up in his own flaws to give other people grief about theirs. Maybe. He didn't know why he was sitting her psycho-analyzing Bill, but decided to blame it on the alcohol.

"They are only vords," Viktor answered with a shrug, looking down at his half eaten plate of appetizers and finding no appetite for any of them.

Bill nodded like he completely understood. Reality was just more _trying_. How things _should be_ was not always how things _could _or _would_ be. He _should_ have loved Fleur. That _would_ have been a perfect, fairy tale ending for everyone. But he _couldn't_. He'd wanted her, but he hadn't needed her. He hoped Viktor was being honest when he said that Fleur didn't need him, either. That would make things much easier, but if Bill had learned anything curse-breaking in Egypt it was that the hardest route always led to the best rewards. He had this gut instinct that Viktor Krum could make things very, very hard on him.

"Hey, where are you staying while you're here?"

"I vill find a hotel tonight," Viktor answered, once again unsure where Bill's mind had gone to that it would lead to this conversation.

Bill made a disgusted face. "Nah. You'll stay with me. Free, and I make a mean roast beef. ...well, at least, if you like your meat a little on the pink side."

"I, but...no, that..." Viktor stumbled. Bill had thrown him completely off guard. Was he serious? He couldn't be, right? Why would anyone invite the friend of their ex-wife to stay with them? It was insane.

"No complaining. My place is nice. Quiet. Has a good view of the beach. We can get to know each other a little. We never got the chance, and what with Hermione and Ron getting married, we should make a bit of an effort, right? Especially since we're more or less the same type."

Viktor's eyes widened. When had Bill noticed? "I vill relent," he answered with a sigh. "I know vhen I have been out-maneuvered."

Bill grinned, but it was a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was obvious when you knew what you were looking for, but nearly invisible if you didn't. How long had Bill felt so emotionally detached to wear such an expression? Would Viktor, also, gain such expressions if he felt this way long enough? Did he already have some? And most importantly, how was he supposed to get rid of them? He knew there was something missing from his life, something vital, but how was he supposed to find it if he didn't even know what it was?


	3. Shell Cottage

_**III. Shell Cottage**_

_(The Journal of William Arthur Weasley, undated entry #2)_

So, I'm writing in this thing Percy gave me again. Guess he was right about one thing--I _do_ need some kind of outlet for my feelings before I explode. Thing is, he thought he meant my feelings about the separation with Fleur. I haven't thought about her much, honestly. Thought about Victoire a few times. And well, I guess that makes me think of Fleur a little--like if she's getting enough sleep. I guess her parents are probably helping with the baby now. I keep finding myself waking up at 2:15 in the morning, expecting to get up to take care of a crying infant. I know Victoire is crying somewhere, but someone else is up with her, bouncing her and making goofy faces at her to calm her. Someone else is sitting up with her and a smoke in the living room. Me, I'm sitting at the kitchen table with a smoke and a journal, because I've somehow been trained to be up at this hour, because the 2:15 shift always fell to my turn. Victoire would settle after about an hour, and then around 5:30 she'd wake up crying again. Fleur would get her and I'd roll over to sleep for another thirty minutes.

You'd think being rid of a crying baby would get your life back to normal, but its been months and I still wake up every morning and make it halfway to the nursery before I realize the only thing up and about in Shell Cottage is me and this dull ache in my face that everyone keeps telling me will fade with time. Or maybe I'll just get so used to it that I'll stop noticing.

Didn't really mean to get on talking about this kind of stuff though. Viktor's been staying with me for three weeks now. I don't see much of him. He says on his previous trips to England he wasn't really able to see the sights, so he sleeps in, goes wandering after I've already left for work, and comes in again around dinner. We don't talk much. I tried some small, but it always falls flat. Small talk's not his thing, I guess. That's fine. He snores, you know. It's not obnoxious or anything, kind of this soft little snorting sound. When I'm wandering about in the middle of the night I can hear it when I pass the door of the guest bedroom. I've noticed lately that I'll stop and listen for a minute. Having someone else in the house, someone I can _hear_ when I wake up, seems to make my scars ache less. That doesn't make much sense does it? I guess that's why I'm sitting here writing about it.

I can tell something's bothering him. That's why he's here. Not here in my house, but here in England. I might be wrong but it seems similar to how I am, somehow--like the way I can't fall in love. There's something very basic and fundamental missing. I wonder what it is he thinks he'll be able to find here that he can't find in Bulgaria. I guess wandering around the UK to all the best tourist spots is kind of like going on a pilgrimage for him. It must be tough. At night he comes back, and he'll sit on the couch with a book that he opens, I think, just to have something to stare at so we don't have to talk. Sometimes I find myself watching him. I don't think he notices, though.

I've decided to give Shell Cottage to Ron and Hermione when they come back from their honeymoon. I told dad about it today. He asked if I was going to come back to the Burrow. Well he actually said 'home' not 'the Burrow' but I haven't lived there in so long I don't think I can think of the Burrow as home anymore. I told him I was going to see if I could get my old job back in Egypt. There's not really any reason for me to stay here now. I came back to England for the Order of the Phoenix. I stayed for Fleur. Now that both are gone, there's really no reason to linger. For a desk job? I'm not that old yet. Sure charm-breaking isn't always easy work. I've experienced more hexes up close and personal than I'd care to think about, but at least something is actually _happening_, you know?

*

Bill heard footsteps in the doorway and slammed the journal shut abruptly, cussing as the ash from his cigarette burned the back of his hand. He dropped it abruptly into the ashtray and shook it off. "What are you doing up?" he asked as Viktor opened the fridge. He was barefoot, standing there staring a bit blankly in his sweats and t-shirt for a long few minutes before reaching for a bottle of water and seating himself across from the red-head with a yawn.

"Bathroom," Viktor answered, uncapping the bottle. "I saw the kitchen light vas on. You do not sleep vell?"

"Oh, I sleep well enough," Bill answered.

"It is nearly three in the morning. You normally are up at this hour vhen you have to vork in the morning?"

"Yeah, what can I say? I never got much into the nine to five habit."

"Fleur told me you used to be a charm-breaker."

"Probably always will be, deep down," Bill answered. There was no way around Fleur. She was their common ground, so the fact that she came up in conversation all the time couldn't be helped. "How's the pilgrimage going?"

"The vhat?"

Bill shook his head and leaned forward with a little grin. "All these pamphlets you've got lying about. Stonehenge, Edinburgh Castle, Westminster Abbey...is running around with muggles really helping you find whatever it is you're looking for?"

"Is sitting up alone at two in the morning helping you avoid finding it?" Viktor retorted. "Ve are not the same. You may be fine vith having lost your passion in life, but for me, living vithout it is much more painful. I do not think sitting here vatching you stare off into space vhen you think I am not going to notice vill be of any help."

Bill laughed. Viktor had such an innocence to him, a certain naivete that was really rather charming. Lost? "What if I told you I never had any real 'passion' in the first place? I've had my fun, mind. But maybe I'm just too laid back to let things get me all riled up. Have you thought of that? Love that burns you to the core and steals your very identity--maybe not everybody wants that. Maybe not everyone needs it. I'm just not that type of guy. I thought you were the same."

Not that type of guy. If only it were that simple. No, there was something much more discreet hidden here. Viktor was beginning to think that maybe if he helped Bill somehow, maybe that would be like helping himself. If he could figure out what was missing from Bill that made him this way, Viktor thought maybe he would then understand what he was missing as well. "These things you say, how do you expect to convince other people of them vhen you don't even believe them yourself?" Viktor answered.

Bill shrugged with a flippant little smirk and glanced at the clock. 3:05. "I'm going back to bed," he said and went back upstairs before Viktor could get another word out. He locked his bedroom door, burrowed under the covers, and swallowed a lump in his throat, opening the journal again.

He started a new paragraph.

_(The Journal of William Arthur Weasley. entry date: 11/28.)_

There's got to be something seriously wrong with me. I was just downstairs talking to Viktor. It wasn't really the most pleasant conversation, but I couldn't help finding myself watching him. I was listening, really I was, but I was also watching the way the dim light I'd left on in the kitchen cast shadows across his skin and his big, square hands. He accused me of being a liar--which is justified, because I kind of am--and at that moment I just came to this sort of realization. Viktor, you know, he's _hot_. I don't know why I'm just noticing it now. He's got these big dark eyes and these pouty lips...and he has this way of looking at you that just cuts straight through your entire body. He's really, seriously handsome. I sort of panicked and ran out in the middle of the conversation when I realized my mind wasn't the only part of me that had noticed.

I mean, I can't believe it. I actually just got an erection from staring at another man. I've _never_ gotten an erection just from looking at someone before. Never. What am I doing writing in this stupid thing now? I need to get some sleep.

*

Bill put the journal away and flopped onto his back. He rolled to one side, then the other. He tried to think of tedious, boring things—like de-gnoming the garden, and peeling potatoes the muggle way. When that didn't work, he tried for things he found completely grotesque—pustules, and Mr. Filch and even Mr. Filch in an evening gown. Hideous, but not helping. His mind kept straying back to Viktor's pouty lips and dark eyes and large hands and broad shoulders. He bit his lip. Merlin, he was hard. He knew if he was going to get any sleep he would have to take matters into his own hands, literally.

But it wasn't his hands that surprised him--it was his fantasies. He tried to think of beautiful women, but his mind kept straying back to Viktor Krum--his broad shoulders and his dark, pouty eyes, his soft lips. His hormones sent him spiraling more quickly than he could have imagined once he caved in and let these fantasies overtake him. He spent himself quickly--embarrassingly so, and destroyed the evidence with a quick cleansing spell before burrowing deep into the blankets, alone, but embarrassed by his body's response. He cleared his throat, finding it felt a bit hoarse. Had he been moaning? He hoped not loud enough to be heard across the hall--he was pretty sure he'd never be able to look Viktor in the eye again if he knew. He doubted Viktor would be the type to say anything, even if he _had_ heard though. There was a cold sort of comfort in that.

He tried to shake these thoughts, but another replaced it. 'Another man?' he thought, 'that's new.' He decided to blame it on the fact he hadn't gotten lucky in a while. His subconscious was just using whatever was most readily available to sate his hormones--and, lucky him, the thing that happened to be most readily available was Viktor. It was easy to brush it off that way. It soothed his nerves and he managed to drift into a restless slumber. But when he dreamed, he still dreamed of Viktor Krum. And when he woke it was with a sinking feeling that something fundamental had changed--something he wasn't ready for.


	4. Deidre

_**IV. Deidre**_

"You are flushed," Viktor observed.

"I, what? No, no, it's just from the shower. I like them hot," Bill answered hastily before returning to spreading jam on his toast.

Viktor didn't seem to be buying it, and Bill couldn't say he blamed him. He was normally much more suave. Cooler. ...and a better liar because of those personality traits. He was definitely _not_ the kind of guy who checked out other men's arses when they were bent over digging through the fridge and got flustered when they almost caught him in the act. _'What the hell is going on with me? Just because he's good looking shouldn't mean I'm going to stare at him like some hormone-driven sixteen-year-old. He's a guy, for starters.'_ Which was the first on a long list of reasons why Bill Weasley was sure he was inexplicably losing his mind.

Viktor pressed his hand to Bill's cheek, then his forehead. The older man found himself leaning back as if the Quidditch player was libel to bite. _'I might like it if he did,'_ Bill mused, then cursed himself for even considering that thought. Just because he'd had one of the most _unique_ fantasies of his life last night while wanking didn't mean he had to feel so awkward about it this morning. It was a fluke--his tired brain getting the best of him. There was nothing to feel embarrassed about. Really, he just wasn't the type to get embarrassed easily, so long as his mum--bless her heart--wasn't pulling out naked baby pictures. He pulled Viktor's hand away, collecting himself and definitely not thinking about how he'd fantasized last night about just how that very hand might feel gliding over his bare back. No, that thought didn't come to mind _at all_.

"Viktor, I'm fine. Don't be such a mum. I have to get to work." He swallowed down his toast abruptly and focused his mind on apparating. The last thing he needed was to get splinched because his hormones were running away with him. As he settled into his desk for the day he concentrated hard on the most unappealing things he could think of: soggy carrots, doxies, Mr. Filch. Okay, much better. Right, now he could think straight. One night of wanking while fantasizing about another man didn't necessarily mean he was losing his mind. In fact, it probably didn't mean anything at all other than he needed to get laid. There was this sweet little thing that worked at the cafe he usually went to for lunch. Maybe he'd turn on the charm. He knew she fancied him. She'd been eying him for quite a while, and ever since she heard about Fleur leaving him, she'd been much more obvious. What was her name again? Delia? Danah? Something with a D, he was sure. Didn't matter. She wore a name tag. It would be easy enough to check.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was actually rather looking forward to asking her out. He imagined how surprised she'd look, and how happy. She'd probably brag about it with her friends once he left. Sure, he wasn't as pretty as he used to be now that his face was all scarred up, but he was still mostly considered ruggedly handsome, damn it. Of course, looks weren't the most important thing, but they still helped.

***

Bill slammed the door behind him. What a miserable experience. He'd thought 'lucky me' when Damia, or was it Deva, Dona? ...whatever, it turns out she was super easy. He, on the other hand, was apparently not. By all rights it should have been a good night, but when it came to foreplay... he'd touched her slim hips, kissed her pert breasts, felt her tiny little arms barely able to reach around his back...and couldn't fight the chill that ran through his body and made him completely unable to perform. It had been mortifying. He just couldn't get it up. She was cute. Really cute. A sweet little thing, but he just didn't feel any desire for her whatsoever. Quite the opposite, in fact--there was this cold knot in the pit of his stomach that made him feel nauseous.

Dena--or whatever the hell her name was--had been gracious. She'd brushed it off to him not being ready to move on just yet, and that it was perfectly understandable, and sweet that he loved his ex-wife so much. That didn't do much to save him from the pride-bashing, and he'd be finding a new cafe to eat lunch in tomorrow, but at least she hadn't laughed at him.

"You are very late," Viktor said, looking up from the evening _Prophet_.

The table was set, but the food had gone cold. The spot in front of Viktor where a plate should have been had been cleared. Bill could see the nearly bloody steak lying on the other that had obviously been meant for him. "You cooked?" That was new.

"You did not look vell this morning. I returned first, so it only made sense that I vould be the one to cook. You did not say you vould be late."

"Had a date," Bill answered with a shrug.

Viktor gave him a look like he didn't believe him.

"I'm allowed to date," Bill snapped.

"I did not say you veren't. You are allowed to do many things that vill make you unhappy. But that does not mean I vould suggest doing them."

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off?"

Viktor didn't answer right away, but put the _Prophet_ aside. "I vent to the trouble of browning nearly raw meat for you and you did not feel the need to show up vhile it vas varm enough to eat. So I think, yes, probably."

Bill looked a bit perplexed, then grinned. "Were you worried?" he asked, leaning over the dark-haired man.

"Of course I vas vorried! You arrive back here every day at same time. Every day. Exactly same time. You have a ritual that you do not break from. You vake up at 2:15 every morning, stay up until 3:10, then vake up again and start getting ready for vork at 6:05. You eat a piece of toast and drink half a cup of plain tea. You return at 5:20. Except for today. Vhat if something had happened?"

"Like what, Vik?" Bill asked seriously, taking the seat next to him. Honestly, he was such a good guy, always worrying about other people. "There's no more Voldemort. No more war. And even if there was, I doubt I'd be at the top of the hit list."

"Not all the bad things in the vorld are about war. People are killed all the time, in times of peace too."

Bill chuckled and put a hand on Viktor's shoulder. "You worry too much," he said. _'Merlin, he really is handsome. And sweet. He's like a human teddy bear, really.' _ He fought the urge to suddenly embrace him. What the hell was up with him? _'I'm seriously losing my mind.'_

"You do not vorry enough," Viktor complained, and stood up. "I vill retire for the night. It is late. If you do not eat your dinner, then dispose of it properly."

"I'll eat. Promise!" Bill grinned and gave Viktor a playful salute. "Since you went to the trouble of cooking for me, darling." He threw in that darling as a joke. Viktor really could act like a cranky housewife sometimes, but it was kind of cute. Bill caught himself ogling the man's arse again as he trudged up the stairs. To his surprise, he found himself starting to grow aroused again. He scoffed at his own rotten luck and mumbled, "and where the hell were you when I needed you tonight, huh?" Why was it a cranky Viktor Krum could induce an erection just by sitting in the same room with Bill, but a perfectly adorable naked woman couldn't even make him...oh, wait. No. That couldn't be, could it? He would have noticed before now, wouldn't he have? This was the sort of thing you figured out in high school, not at his age, for pity's sake!

It was something he didn't think any amount of writing in a journal was going to help him think through--which only left one possible solution.

_(The Burrow, fireplace)_

"Hello? Anybody there?"

"Bill, what's up?" Ginny asked, kneeling before the flame.

"Charlie hasn't gone back to Romania yet, right?"

"Not until tomorrow. What's up?" Charlie asked from across the room, strolling over. He'd been doing some last minute packing, but if Bill was trying to get his attention at 11:30 at night, he knew it must be something important.

Bill looked slightly relieved. "Oh, good. You're still up. I'm going to pop by. I need to talk to you about something. It's nothing big, but I'd rather talk it out in person. Don't go to bed yet."

"Yeah, sure," Charlie replied. "I'll meet you out back. Mum's been griping about the gnomes again. We can do a midnight de-gnoming as a nice surprise. Don't see why the little buggers don't even let up in the winter though."

"See you in a few."

_(The Burrow, Garden)_

Charlie was tossing the first snow-capped gnome far into the distance when Bill arrived. He was still dressed from work, but a little rumpled, and looked highly agitated.

"What's up?" Charlie asked.

Bill looked to the side the way he always did when they were about to have a serious conversation about something that was on his mind and couldn't stand the fact he couldn't figure it all out on his own. They'd only had three others. The first had been Bill's second year at Hogwarts, when he thought he was flunking potions, and he couldn't figure out how to break it to their parents. It turned out to be a false alarm--Snape had that effect on people. The second had been when he was trying to figure out how to tell their mum that he was going to be a charm-breaker and got a job all the way in Egypt--he couldn't figure out how to tell her without her bursting into tears--and the third...the third had been when he'd made up his mind to propose to Fleur even though he damn well knew he wasn't in love with her.

Bill grabbed a gnome and chucked it a record distance. That told Charlie something had gotten his older brother really worked up. Bill was usually pretty gentle with the gnomes--much to their mother's disdain. Charlie wasn't much better.

"This is going to sound crazy," Bill started. "I'm probably just losing my mind." He tossed another gnome, this one farther than the first, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He started to pace. "Charlie, ...don't you dare laugh, okay?"

"Sure," Charlie answered, not sure what Bill was about to say that might be laughable.

"I think I might be gay."

Charlie laughed. He couldn't help it. "You're a little early for a mid-life crisis, Bill."

"This has nothing to do with that! I had a date tonight."

"Uh-huh?" Charlie asked blandly. He knew there was more Bill had to say, but he was waiting to make sure Charlie was finished laughing at him first.

"...I...couldn't, you know..._perform_."

Charlie coughed. "So you think, just because you had, er, one bad night..."

"Let me finish!" Bill insisted irritably. "I couldn't, you know. But I get home, and Viktor's sitting at the kitchen table. Uh, long story short, I...well, you know."

"You got excited? Over Krum?!" Charlie was doing his best not to laugh at his older brother. He really was. It wasn't easy though.

"...yesterday too. And...kind of a little this morning."

Charlie waved his hands. Okay, this was too much information, even between brothers. "Okay, okay, so...what of it, then?" Charlie knew what Bill wanted was just someone to bounce his thoughts of. He never really needed Charlie's opinion of anything. He always just talked at him until he'd managed to get his mind around whatever was bothering him.

"So...he's really attractive," Bill started, his voice growing quiet. "And he's a good guy. Real sweet. Worries too much, but that's sort of...you know, it's kind of cute. But even if I fancy him a little, that doesn't mean I don't fancy girls, except, I sort of didn't tonight. I was actually...she was cute, Charlie. Not Fleur, I mean, but real cute, tiny little thing...can't remember her damn name, Dana, or something. Anyway, I just felt kind of...repulsed."

Repulsed. It was an interesting choice of words, but Charlie kept his mouth shut and let Bill chuck gnomes to work some of the agitation out of his system before continuing. "It's stupid, isn't it? Sexuality just isn't something that ever crossed my mind before. But now it matters. A lot. What if?" He swallowed and chucked another gnome, but this one didn't gain the distance of the other two. "...what if this is the root of my _other_ problem?"

Charlie startled, and the gnome he'd been throwing barely made it past the garden fence. "You think you're in love with him?"

"No. Merlin, no. At least, probably not. I don't know." The longer Bill talked the less decisive he sounded. "I like him," he said. "It's not like I can do anything about it, even if I do fall for him, right? I mean, he's Fleur's friend. And if the gossip about him being a total player is true, then he's strait as an ironwood wand. And..."

"And?" Charlie prodded.

"I've already inquired about the possibility of getting my old job back, in Egypt. It's practically a done deal."

Charlie tilted his head and quirked a brow. "Don't give me that look," Bill complained. "You think I'm just running away from my problems. Well, so what if I am."

"Dad told me you're giving Shell Cottage to Ron," Charlie said. "So, technically, I suppose that means you're free to go wherever you please. Egypt, Bulgaria, you know, wherever," Charlie pointed out.

Bill tensed. Bulgaria indeed. "I don't know if falling for one guy makes me gay though."

So, Bill had just admitted he'd fallen for Viktor--or was in the process of falling. Charlie figured that was real progress for Bill, no matter who was involved. "Does it matter? Listen, Bill, we both know you're a smart guy and generally I just let you talk until you're blue in the face, and you thank me for just sitting here while you pace and abuse garden gnomes, but we've talked about the whole 'love' thing before, and if I've said it once, I've said it a million times: there are no rules. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. See what happens. We've been out of Hogwarts for ages. Stop thinking you need to have all the answers."

Bill subdued almost instantly, though Charlie observed that he was moping a bit. "I don't know how to seduce a guy," he said at last. "Girls are easy. Flirt, compliment 'em, make 'em feel like they're the most beautiful thing you've ever seen and make 'em think that you hang on their every word. Public displays of affection help too. But guys..." he sighed heavily. "This is going to be a disaster."

Charlie shrugged. "One more disaster probably won't kill you."

"It might," Bill answered bitterly. He shook his head and Charlie watched as he bit his lower lip in thought. When he released it after a pregnant pause Bill declared, "alright, I've got it. Thanks Charlie."

Got it? Charlie decided not to ask what conclusion his brother had come to. They'd all know soon enough. That's just how Bill was once he made up his mind about something.

"Yeah, no problem," Charlie answered, but Bill had already apparated by the time he finished the sentence.


	5. If Only

_**V. If Only**_

Viktor could smell something heavenly wafting upstairs from the kitchen Saturday morning. It woke him from a deep sleep and pulled him groggily downstairs. The second he made it to the kitchen doorway he very nearly turned around and went back upstairs. Why in the hell was Bill topless? He'd never gone topless before, and it was the middle of December. Even Viktor, used to cold weather, was wearing sweats around the house. There would be no tourist attractions today. There hadn't been all week. The snow was light here, but it still made running around England to look at old buildings a miserable experience. Besides, he hadn't yet shaken the feeling that his own problem was so similar to Bill's that he would figure it out by prolonged exposure. Unfortunately, that prolonged exposure had made Viktor realize what he was missing from life appeared to be, of all things, a male companion. He instinctively fussed and worried over Bill. Merlin knew the man didn't worry enough over himself.

"You are trying to catch a cold for some reason in particular?" Viktor asked. His gaze shifted from Bill's long hair, trailing loosely down his back and still damp from a recent shower, to his bare toes. He was wearing a pair of green flannel pajama pants that rested a little lower on the hips than they should and pooled a bit around his feet, but other than that it was nothing but bare, pale skin.

"Hm?" Bill asked vaguely, flipping the last of the bacon onto a plate. He willed himself not to become excited by Viktor's presence. If he did, it would be all too obvious. Was he cold? Well, yeah! He was half-naked, but that wasn't the point. He figured the first step was to see if Viktor reacted at all to looking at him. He wasn't going to get anywhere seducing the man if Viktor wasn't at all attracted to him, after all. He'd started cooking a big breakfast only because the heat of the stove made the room considerably warmer.

Viktor couldn't figure out how to continue the conversation right away and so sputtered a bit, "It is December."

Bill smirked. "It's warm enough inside, Vik. How do you like your eggs?"

"Vhat?"

"Eggs. Sunny-side up?"

"...that is fine."

"Right then." Bill set back to cooking. "Ah, damn," he said after a minute. "I need another plate. Do you mind? My hands are full."

Viktor had been about to sit down, but stopped halfway and changed course. The plates were in a cabinet overhead just to the right of the Weasley. He'd almost bumped elbows with him putting another down on the counter next to the bacon. Bill flipped an egg over onto it. "Thanks," he said, locking him with those blue eyes.

Viktor felt his breath catch in his throat and just shrugged, retreating back to the table as Bill started cracked another egg. Why was his pulse racing? His fingers twitched, he felt the strangest urge to run them through the older man's long hair. He snapped out of his thoughts when Bill leaned over him and set a plate in down with that irritating little smirk. It was the smirk Bill wore that made you think he knew something you didn't.

"Feeling alright, Vik?" he asked from behind the Bulgarian. "You look a little flushed." He put his hand on Viktor's forehead, causing his head to tilt back against Bill's bare abdomen. Flames seemed to lick through his body. He pulled the hand away a bit roughly. "Put a shirt on before you get sick," he complained, not answering the question.

Bill was careful when he sat down across from Viktor. Actual physical contact. He was feeling a little excited by it, but somehow managed to keep Viktor from noticing. "There's no reason to get so uncomfortable," he said. "We're both guys."

Viktor's eyes widened in surprise, as if that fact had somehow slipped his attention until now. _'He's so friggin' cute,'_ Bill thought. He wondered if he should push further, and decided he could push a little and brush it off as a joke. "...or are all those girlfriends of yours just a sleight of hand to conceal _other interests_?" His lips curled playfully at the suggestion, but Viktor seemed to take offense. He dropped his fork abruptly and stood, storming back upstairs.

_'Shite. That was too far,'_ Bill thought and, food forgotten ran upstairs after him only to have the guest room door slammed shut just before he arrived. "Viktor. It was just a joke," he tried in his most placating voice.

"Go avay," Viktor snapped from where he leaned against the other side of the door.

"Viktor. Come on, just forget it. I didn't mean anything by it," Bill tried.

"I do not vant to talk to you now," Viktor snapped. "I do not know vhat you are playing at, but it is _not_ funny. Leave me be!"

Bill sighed. "Alright," he sulked a bit. "Sorry." He padded back downstairs and poked at his cold eggs but couldn't seem to find the appetite to eat them.

Upstairs, Viktor slumped down the door and let out a shaky breath, glaring down at his crotch accusingly.

*

Twenty minutes later, after what Viktor thought was probably the most intense orgasm of his life, he figured he had no choice but to accept that Bill's joke rang a bit too close to the truth. It seemed like his entire life, all the bungled relationships with women who he couldn't seem to bring himself to truly care about, suddenly made a lot more sense. He was gay. That's why. He couldn't form a real relationship with a woman because what he really wanted was a man. A man like Bill. _'No! It must not be Bill. Fleur would never forgive me!'_ But Merlin, the more he thought of it, the more he realized he desired Bill and probably had for quite a while. Maybe that was why he didn't fight more when Bill invited him to stay at Shell Cottage, and maybe that's why he was in no rush to leave. _'Tonight. I vill return home tonight. The holidays will come soon. I should be home for them,'_ he thought. _'Once I am away from him, I won't have to think about this again.'_

Around dinner, Viktor came downstairs with his duffel neatly packed. Bill had bundled up and was asleep on the living room chair. The _Daily Prophet_ had slipped out of his fingers and his mouth hung slightly open. Viktor watched him as if it was painful to lay eyes upon him. It was as if someone had torn down the dam that had kept his emotions from drowning him. He couldn't blame anyone for feeling this way but the sleeping red-head. He leaned over to pick up the paper and place it on the coffee table. "Bill," he stated tensely.

Bill didn't stir right away.

"Bill," Viktor said louder.

"Mmn?" Bill replied, but it was just a response to sound. He wasn't really awake.

Viktor leaned over him and shook his shoulder. "Bill, vake up."

Bill stirred to find Viktor hovering over him, which was something that would just never happen in reality so he figured he must be dreaming. "Morning, Vik," he said sleepily, pulling his face down the few inches required and kissed him as if they'd been lovers for years.

Viktor tensed, startled, and gasped softly. That was a mistake--the groggy Weasley swept his tongue into the Bulgarian's mouth and Viktor was instantly defeated. The kiss shot directly from his tongue down his spine and made his very thighs quiver. This was going far too quickly. He knew that, but could no more stop it than he could tell the waves to stop crashing upon the shore outside. It was everything he'd always heard kisses were but had never felt from them--hot, wet, capable of blacking out everything but the tongue down your throat and the hands curled tightly into the front of your shirt, and making time completely irrelevant.

Eventually though, he had to pull back before he suffocated. Bill blinked up at him a few times before his blue eyes went wide and he realized he was awake and had just snogged the hell out of his house guest. He blushed. Viktor froze. Neither could think of anything to say.

"...so," Bill broke in eventually. "...still mad?"

"I...vasn't mad, exactly," Viktor replied, eyes sliding away from Bill's face.

Bill couldn't help but stare at him. His lips still hummed from their kiss. His heart thundered in his chest to the point he could barely hear Viktor's answer to his question. The very core of his existence _ached_. Somehow, he needed to put this feeling into words, he thought, so that Viktor would understand. "Viktor..." he said. _'Just tell him, Bill. Tell him that you think you've fallen in love with him.'_

"Tomorrow, I leave for Bulgaria," Viktor said. He didn't know why he'd said 'tomorrow'. He'd already packed his bags and had planned to leave right away, but Bill sounded so vulnerable when he said his name and suddenly he'd put his departure off a day.

Bill felt like something in his chest shattered. He sat up more properly, let go of the other man. "Right," he said, and even Viktor could hear that disappointment in his voice. "Holidays are coming up, huh? Haven't done a damn bit of shopping yet. I should get on that."

"Yes. It's the same for me," Viktor answered, and it somehow felt like there was something much bigger being communicated between them. He would see Bill after tonight--sporadically, at events, and they might engage in a little bit of small talk, but it would be tense and awkward. They would keep their distance from one another as if the time they spent here together was convenient, but fundamentally meaningless. So he bridged the gap and kissed Bill. He laced his fingers through the older man's hair.

They continued to kiss as Bill stood, pulled their bodies flush, and let Viktor feel just how much he wanted him. "Let's take this upstairs," Bill whispered as the kisses broke again.

Viktor nodded his shy agreement and took Bill's hand. This was the only chance they would have together. There was no need to sugar-coat it with words of eternal devotion or romance. There was no need to say anything at all. There were no illusions about where this would or wouldn't lead. Viktor was leaving tomorrow. By next month, Ron and Hermione would move into Shell Cottage and all traces that it had once belonged to Bill and Fleur would be gradually covered over until not a hint remained. Bill would be back in Egypt by then, rummaging around in the tombs of dead pharaohs because the only thing that had ever really made him feel alive was risking his life. From time to time, Viktor would think of him and worry, but they wouldn't communicate at all. There would be no more women for Viktor, he knew that, but perhaps in a few years he would meet a nice man who he would come to love only slightly less than Bill. That, he figured, was the best he could hope for. But before tomorrow came, they still had tonight, and Viktor had decided to make the best of it.

He arched when Bill touched him, shivered when he pulled away. Bill moaned loudly against his mouth, left a few marks along his throat that Viktor knew he would have to cover for weeks until they faded.

They pounded relentlessly against one another, called each other's names in ecstasy, and Bill could feel a few scratches on his back that Viktor hadn't intended to leave when he collapsed, spent against the mattress. He panted for a while. Was he gay? If he hadn't been sure before, he was sure now. Sex with women didn't even come close to the rough love he'd just made to Viktor. And the orgasm...oh, Merlin, the orgasm! He'd always thought sex was nice, but he'd never felt anything that came even close to that before.

When he finally got the air back into his lungs, he couldn't help himself from asking, "Your pilgrimage, did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes," Viktor answered honestly. He'd found Bill. He'd found this night together. He'd found the thing that he'd needed to fill the hollowed out pit deep inside of his heart that had been slowly polluting the rest of it.

"What was it?" Bill asked. He didn't think he'd get an answer.

"A memory," Viktor answered after a stretch of silence. "A precious memory."

Bill rolled onto his side and gently caressed Viktor's cheek. "A memory can't keep you warm at night, Vik," he said. He knew even as he said it that Viktor's answer would be no. It had to be, because of Fleur.

"It vill keep me varm here," Viktor answered, sliding Bill's hand down over his chest. Bill left it there for a while, feeling Viktor's heart beating under his fingertips. If only he could somehow hold onto it, but it was already long out of his grasp. "That is enough."

"Is it?" Bill didn't think it came even close to being enough. One night together? Yeah, right. A thousand nights wouldn't be enough, if he knew that in the end Viktor would still have to leave.

"It vill have to be," Viktor answered. "You know that."

Bill sighed and pulled the covers over them. He draped his arm over Viktor's stomach because he couldn't bear not to be touching him in some way until this precious night together ended. He didn't want to sleep because he knew in a matter of hours, Viktor would be gone and he wanted to remember every second of their time together, but he already felt the heavy curtain of his eyelids drooping and managed to keep them open only reluctantly. "I know," Bill answered at last. "And I understand why. You're earnestness is one of your best qualities." He never told Viktor 'I love you', but there was really no need. When he woke in the morning, Viktor was already gone. There was a note on the empty pillow beside him. _'I am sorry to leave without waking you,'_ it said _'but I was afraid if you smiled at me again, I might lose my resolve. Thank you for everything. Yours, Viktor.'_

_'Yours,' _Bill thought. _'If only.' _

He sighed and reached for his journal again. Writing it out, he thought, might siphon off some of the pain.

_(The journal of William Arthur Weasley, undated entry.)_

So it turns out I'm gay. Probably always was. Also turns out I'm madly in love with a man I can't have. And why can't I have him? Because he doesn't love me? No, that's not it. He's crazy about me, too. No, I can't have him because I was an arse and married a good friend of his even though I wasn't in love with her. I can't have him because of Fleur, because he doesn't want to hurt her any more than I already have. And now I'm full of all this, just...raw pain. I've wanted to fall in love my whole life. I thought if I found what was missing, I'd feel whole, that I'd feel more alive. Well, if this is what 'alive' feels like, you can have it. It's for the birds. He said a memory was enough to keep him warm. It had to be a lie. A memory of him isn't nearly enough to satisfy me. I have to have him, even if it means causing Fleur more pain. I need him. But what if he doesn't need me back?


	6. Talk to Me

_**VI. Talk to Me**_

_(Paris, France. 1/3.)_

Bill sat in the back of the cafe and tore napkin after napkin into tiny pieces until they were too small to continue to tear. He had written to Fleur, requested as gently as possible that they get together for a talk. She'd replied with a date and time and the address of a Parisian cafe. Bill's French wasn't the best, but he managed to order a glass of water and explain that he was waiting for someone.

She was late. Bill couldn't fight this fear that she wouldn't come. And then he fought this bigger fear that she would. He needed to explain things to her properly for once. If she was okay with it then Viktor...no, one thing at a time. He took a large sip of water and quickly dusted the napkin shreddings under the table when Fleur sat down, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"...hey," he said. She'd brought the baby. Merlin, Victoire was getting so big! He didn't realize how much he missed her until she was right here. "Thanks for coming."

Fleur adjusted Victoire's blanket. "You said you wanted to talk," Fleur said. "Somesing has changed with you."

"Yeah, I..." Bill was normally so much more suave than this. Sometimes he felt like falling in love had turned him into a complete buffoon. "I guess I wanted to apologize for all that I put you through. I never meant it to go that way. I really did think I would fall in love with you. I mean, how could anyone not? There's so much worth loving."

Fleur sighed. She'd come to terms with this already, but she didn't hate Bill or anything, so if he needed to spill it all out at her so that he could too, then she decided she would let him. Even if his feelings for her were only lukewarm, that didn't mean she wanted the man she'd fallen in love with to suffer. So she listened quietly as he explained about the past, how he'd never loved anyone, but had liked her more than he'd ever liked a girl before, how he'd thought that would be enough. She watched the way he would fidget and rub the side of his neck at places to try to figure out what to say next. He didn't seem much like the confident, smooth, brave and charming man she had fallen for now.

He took a deep breath, "But it kind of...well, it turns out I'm gay," he finished awkwardly.

Fleur blinked and then covered a demure little giggle with her hand. Suddenly it all made sense, like the final piece of a puzzle had been added and the picture finally became clear. Of course Bill was gay. How had she never noticed it before?

Bill rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess it's pretty stupid. Most people figure out this sort of thing when they're still in school, right? But I guess if you don't have anything against girls, can look at them and think they're cute, then it just sort of makes sense to assume you're, well, _normal, _until something happens that says otherwise."

It didn't take long for Fleur to figure it out. "It eez love. That is what has changed for you. That eez why you seem so much more..."

"Clumsy? Awkward? Moronic? Yeah, basically," Bill answered, looking down at Victoire. "Can I hold her? Just for a minute?"

"She eez your child too. Ze fact we are no longer togezer, does not change zat."

Bill gently lifted Victoire from her carriage and coddled her a bit. He thought he would probably always miss her, but he also knew that it was right to leave her to Fleur. She needed her mother. He would just end up extra baggage that made things complicated, but she would always be his daughter and he adored her. If he was honest with himself she was always somewhere in the back of his mind.

They sat quietly for a while before he set her back down. "You do not have to stop being her fazer, Bill," Fleur said, fussing with the baby's blankets again.

"I am being her father," he answered. "I'm being her father by making the decision that will be the easiest for the most people. If when she's older, she decides on her own that she wants me to be part of her life, then that's what I'll be, but for now, I think letting her go is the best for everyone."

"It eez not best for you."

"It is, at least for now. I have other things going on. Really complicated things."

"Like zis man you love."

"Yeah, about that..." Bill hedged. "He's a friend of yours."

Fleur looked a bit startled. "A friend? Of mine?"

Bill stared down at the table. "A Bulgarian friend."

Fleur's eyes went rather wide, and Bill very nearly laughed at the cute expression. "With Viktor? He eez a good man."

"Too good," Bill complained. "He's too worried about hurting you to let me anywhere near him."

"You want me to talk to heem?"

"I couldn't ask you to do that," Bill protested. "I mean, hell, I've put you through enough as it is. I'll manage."

"I will talk to heem," Fleur said decisively. "I am no longer angry with you, seence you did not know any better. And Viktor is my friend, as you say, so if you are what makes heem happy, zen I zink I should let heem have you. But! If you hurt heem, I will not forgive you again."

Bill couldn't help but laugh a bit. Fleur certainly was a unique woman. "Someday, you are going to make some heterosexual man very, very happy," he said.

"But of course. Zat much is obvious," Fleur answered.

***

"This is Victoire," Fleur said, depositing the baby unceremoniously into Viktor's arms.

Viktor scrambled a bit, and looked adorably awkward holding the infant. She had these bright blue eyes that made him think of Bill. "She is cute," Viktor answered, not sure why he was holding Fleur's baby, but deciding he wouldn't question it.

Fleur smiled. "Viktor, do not look so terrified," she said. "She eez an important part of my life, and also Bill's life, so naturally, she will become a part of yours. So I thought introductions were in order."

Wait. What? Fleur was a good friend of his, but Viktor was sure there were times the woman made absolutely no sense. She was completely unphased by his his confusion and just barreled onwards. "After all, no matter what nonsense that man spouts out now, he wants to be part of his daughter's life, and I zink he zhould be. Naturally, zat means she will need to learn Bulgarian, and who better to teach her than you?"

"Fleur, vill you please slow down. Vhy does Victoire need to learn Bulgarian?"

"Well, because her fazer will be living in Bulgaria, of course, vorking out of a branch of Gringotts Bank in Sofia. He eez looking to build a house on ze Danube, near Pleven." Fleur gracefully took Victoire back and put her down in her stroller before Viktor's shock could make him drop her as if she hadn't said anything surprising at all.

"I thought he vas going back to vork in Egypt!?" Viktor exclaimed. So why in the hell was Bill looking for a house in Bulgaria? He had a feeling he knew, but didn't realize that Weasleys were naturally so stubborn. His complexion lost all its color.

"Well yes, 'e was planning that, but you see, ze person he loves is in Bulgaria, so he naturally wants to be near heem. Oh, Bill is gay, it turns out, but you knew zat, didn't you?" she asked casually.

"I need to sit..." Viktor answered, flopping into one of four armchairs set in a semi-circle around a wooden coffee table where he'd set out tea and cakes for Fleur's visit. He had been expecting a casual visit, not well, not _this_.

"If he was not, obviously he would not be able to resist my many charms, and we would still be togezer," Fleur continued with a flip of her blond hair. "But, seence he prefers men, I have decided I will forgive him, seence he gave me such a pretty little baby, who will have many people to care for her as she grows."

"Fleur, I..." Viktor began awkwardly. He didn't know what to say. He was grateful that she seemed so okay with it all.

"You love my Bill very much, yes?"

"...yes," he admitted quietly, staring down at his hands.

"Zen it ees only right that you get to know his daughter, so you can bully him into coming to visit her sometimes. Like her birthday, and perhaps some of ze holidays. You will have no trouble with zis. He is very smitten with you."

Viktor colored a bit. "I...vill tell him it is important," he answered awkwardly.

"Good! Now we must go shopping," Fleur declared. "To find you somezing nice to wear."

"Vhat is wrong vith what I am wearing now?"

"Viktor! Have you no zense of romance? I have checked his plans with heez brother, Charlie. He eez staying with Charlie for now, in Romania. Bill will come to you tonight, to surprise you. He vill try to woo you, and convince you that I am quite fine with ze two of you being togezer, which I am. Ze least you can do ees look your best when he arrives, no? You must have somezing dashing to wear. ...but, I zink, also somezing easy to remove," she grinned impishly.

"Fleur!"

"Do not be so embarrassed! It is natural. Perhaps he will be so astounded by how nice you look zat you will be able to do ze seducing, hm? Now, come, we must find you somezing very 'andsome to wear. You can tell me and Victoire all about Bulgaria while we shop. And I will tell you all ze things I have learned about Bill in our time togezer."

"I, but, oh fine. You vin again, Fleur." Viktor knew when he was fighting a losing battle.

The woman giggled. "But of course, dear Viktor, you make it very easy for me."


	7. Where the Heart Is

_**VII. Where the Heart Is**_

Viktor didn't know how he was supposed to act as if this is how he normally dressed at home. The slacks were so neatly pressed he was afraid to ruin everything by sitting down, the shoes shined so brilliantly you could check your reflection in them, the black tee fit so tightly he could barely breathe, and no matter what Fleur said was fashionable, he knew he would never see anyone in Bulgaria wearing a purple silk collared shirt unless they were going clubbing. He felt ridiculous. If he stood with his usual slouch he felt like the t-shirt's seams would rip, so he was forced to stand at tight attention by the window. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, then took them out, then put one in only. No matter how he adjusted he didn't feel even slightly comfortable. He managed to wash off most of the cologne Fleur had spritzed him with, but he still thought he smelled like some small animal that crawled into the food cupboard and died there.

The bell rang and he moved stiffly towards the door. Through the peephole he saw Bill standing there in a black dress shirt, half open, and khakis. He was envious--Bill looked handsome _and _comfortable. Of course, Viktor was convinced that Bill would look dashing in a floral mumu. He swallowed a lump in his throat and opened the door, trying--and failing--to look surprised.

Bill pouted a bit at that and said, "Fleur got to you first, I see."

"...she means vell," Viktor answered, stepping aside to let the red-head in.

Bill was temporarily distracted by the fact that Viktor looked incredible in purple. He didn't seem to be all that comfortable though. Well, half of that could probably be attribute to Bill's presence, he supposed. "I guess I'll have to be graceful about her ruining my surprise, all things considered. So, surprise."

"You..." Viktor still didn't know what he was supposed to say. "You alvays do just as you please, don't you?"

"If there's one thing the war taught me, Vik, it's that life is way too short not to go after what you want." He brushed his fingers across the younger man's cheek. "It may be that this is my only chance at love. So, yeah, I'm pretty much going to stalk you until you agree to be mine."

"Vhat about Egypt?" Viktor asked, tense.

Bill pulled him into a firm, one-armed embrace and caressed his cheek. "I've found something that excites me a lot more than risking my life." Before Viktor could answer Bill tilted his head and leaned in for a deep kiss. Viktor was sure that between the shirt and Bill's soft lips stealing his breath away he was going to suffocate. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest.

When they parted, Bill said, "Where should we go?"

"Vhat?"

"You know Bulgaria better than I do," Bill smirked. "What's a good place for a date? Where do you want to go?"

Viktor colored. "I...vell..." he sputtered. "There vill be paparazzi if ve go out."

"So what?" Bill answered. "Embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"No, it's not...of course not," Viktor flustered. "But... I think my mother vould be very upset to find out her only son is gay from the newspaper."

Bill felt his heart leap into his throat. Viktor's family? Were they there already? Hell, if they were, that was totally fine with him. "Are you saying you want me to meet your parents?" he teased.

"If you do not vant to...I..."

"No no, that's just fine by me."

"...they have been vanting me to come for dinner," Viktor hedged. "You are sure this is okay?"

He knew there was always plenty of food at his parents' house, and he was always welcome, with or without advanced warning. They were definitely going to be surprised by this though.

"I want to meet them too," Bill assured him. "They're the people who created you. Besides," he postured. "It's hardly fair. You already know my whole family."

"You vill tell them about us soon too?" he asked.

Bill figured they'd know long before he bothered to say anything. "Soon enough," he said. "I figured I'd invite them to see the house when I finish building it. Of course, you'll be there, since it's your house too. I'll give them the tour. Show them the kitchen, the living room, you know, and eventually I'll say 'and this is the bedroom.' Of course, there will only be one bed, big enough for both of us. There will be some shelves with all the little knick-knacks I've picked up during my time in Egypt, and my visits to Charlie in Romania, and somewhere you'll probably have your Quidditch gear laying about. We won't have bothered making the bed, because I always figured it was pointless to make something only to unmake it again. And there will be pictures above the fireplace of all our family and friends. Sounds nice, right?"

Viktor rested his head against Bill's shoulder. It sounded better than nice. "It sounds...homey." Yes, not a house, but a home. A home for the two of them. Not a cluttered apartment, like the one they were standing in, but an actual home.

Speaking of homes, they reached the front door of his family's before he realized it. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, lacing his fingers with Bill's and pushing the door open. "Hello. Mother. Father. Kalina. It is me..."

Viktor's family home was more of a mansion than a house. Bill felt like he was walking into a small castle, but he supposed that wasn't really a surprise. A maid crossed in front of them and gasped. "Ah! Master Viktor! What a surprise," she declared before her eyes were drawn to where his hand was joined with Bill's. "I, oh, I'll tell your parents you and your..._friend..._will be joining them for dinner."

As she hurried off, Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "...my Bulgarian _really_ needs work," he said. "I barely made out any of that."

"Ve vill vork on it," Viktor said. "Come this vay. They vill be in the dining room."

As they turned up the hall, a little girl of about ten years old came darting out of a doorway to the left. Her hair was long and dark and bound in a pair of braids that fell over her shoulders. "Oooh! It's a _man_!" she declared, poking her head back into the room. "Momma, Poppa! Viktor's special someone is a _boy_! With lots of _scars_!"

"Kalina!" Viktor protested, then sighed. "My sister," he explained to Bill. "She is...a nuisance. I am hoping she vill eventually grow out of it."

Bill laughed. "I have six younger siblings. Trust me. I know what you mean. I always found Percy especially annoying."

Viktor smiled at him before swallowing down the hard lump of nervousness in his throat. "Vell, here we go, then." He pulled Bill gently into the dining room.

His father was sitting at the head of a long table--stern looking with salt and pepper hair. His mother seemed gentler, but only slightly--too thin with a long neck and her hair tied into a tight bun. Bill felt Viktor clutch his hand a bit tighter as if looking for strength.

"Nice of you to join us, Viktor," his father said after a pause. "Are you going to introduce us to your friend?"

"Can ve please speak English?" Viktor said. "His Bulgarian is not yet very good." He took a deep breath at the tiny nod his father gave. "This is Villiam Veasley. He is called 'Bill' and...and he is precious to me. So...I vanted you to meet him."

"It's a pleasure," Bill said. It was always awkward meeting the parents. He hoped they weren't too taken aback. The silence was palpable.

"So, Bill," Viktor's mother said after a while. "Vhat do you do for a living?"

"I work for Gringotts," Bill answered smoothly. "Originally I was charm-breaker, but I took a desk job back home during the war. I just transferred to the branch in Sofia. I'll be starting there next week, not sure exactly what they'll have me doing just yet."

The woman nodded. Gringotts was a good job. That test was the easy one to pass. And it also let on, without having to be asked, that he'd moved to Bulgaria for Viktor--that meant he was serious about their son. He was pretty sure, at least, that was enough to satisfy most mothers. The father was harder to read.

"Your family is in England?" the man asked seemingly out of nowhere.

"Oh, mostly," Bill answered. "One of my brothers is right in Romania doing work with dragons. I'm staying with him until I finish building my house."

"You'll build your house in Bulgaria?" the man asked, still not raising his gaze from his plate.

"Yeah, I bought a nice plot near the Danube, a bit outside of Pleven. I'm planning to start work in March. If things go well I should be able to finish by September."

"And this _home _of yours. You intend to bring my son vith you?"

"That was the plan, yeah," Bill answered. He wasn't sure if that was what Viktor's father wanted to hear or not, but he wasn't going to lie about it.

But before anyone could ask more serious questions of him, the little girl blurted out, "Hey, how'd you get all those scars?"

Inquisitive little brat. Bill grinned. She reminded him of Ginny at that age. "Oh, that's from the war," Bill said. "There was this werewolf, Greyback. Blind-sided me. Well, I guess I was a _bit_ out-matched, but the first one," he pointed at a dark scar near his temple, "was still a cheap shot."

"You vere not out-matched," Viktor stated sternly. "You are being too modest."

It was cute how Viktor was defending him, but Bill just laughed it off. "It's history, in any case," he said. "I hardly feel them anymore."

Viktor's father tensed. Bill knew why. The word 'werewolf' was always a sensitive subject. Before the man could ask he continued as if it was still just casual conversation, "The way I see it I got off easy. I like my meat rare and my sense of smell is a little better than I'd like sometimes, but that's about it."

"So, you are not a verevolf then?" Viktor's mother asked. "Even though you received such vounds?"

"He wasn't transformed at the time," Bill answered casually. "I got the whole complicated explanation right after it happened, but to be honest, I think I may have fallen asleep half way through it," he answered casually. "The gist of it seems to be that since he wasn't in his wolf form when we fought the side effects are pretty minimal. Beyond that I guess I just never thought the details were all that important."

Bill was amazing, Viktor thought. No matter what awkward questions his parents shot at him with their stern tones, he answered back casually and honestly like he was completely comfortable. Next to him, Viktor felt like a nervous wreck. What if they didn't like him? What if they didn't approve of his answers or his laid back personality or the fact that their son had fallen in love with a man? What if...?

But the night seemed to go smoothly. Once all the awkward questions were asked, his sister got curious about charm-breaking and he talked about that for a bit, and it just ended up making him sound really smart, because he knew about so many different hexes and curses and how to counter them. Of course, Viktor knew he was smart--he'd been Head Boy at Hogwarts, after all. He'd heard that somewhere, but wasn't sure who'd mentioned it to him, not that that was important. What was important was that by the time dessert was over, his parents were slightly less tense than they tended to be.

"Kalina, vhy don't you give Bill a tour of the house, Viktor and I have some things to discuss," Mr. Krum said.

"Okay!" Kalina, at least, seemed to rather like him. Her English was about as good as Bill's Bulgarian, but between the two languages they managed to understand one another well enough and it was only a matter of time before Bill perfected Bulgarian, Viktor figured, just like he perfected everything else.

Viktor swallowed and watched as his sister pulled Bill along by the cuff of his shirt, and his mother excused herself to 'help in the kitchen', which he knew was just an excuse to leave Viktor and his father alone. Viktor had always been intimidated by his father. Always. Now that he knew they were going to talk about Bill he felt even more worried.

"So, you spend years chasing after anything that wears a skirt, and now you expect us to believe you prefer men?" Mr. Krum stated.

"I expect you to believe I prefer this man, at the very least," Viktor answered. He wasn't going to get into how a person could be confused. How they could spend their entire lives ignoring what's right in front of their face and then one day, just suddenly see it plain as day. Explaining how a person can 'become gay' after having slept with many women wasn't something he thought his father would understand even if he explained it. It was, Viktor thought, something like drawing blinds away from the window. The view on the other side of the window has always been there, but until you move the curtain aside, it might as well just be another piece of the wall. Once you've drawn the curtain though, even when it's closed, you'll always know what's on the other side. You can pull the blinds closed, sure, but you can never un-see what you've seen. He thought it must be like that for Bill too.

"This man," Mr. Krum sighed a bit. "This charm-breaker. He likes risks."

"He does," Viktor answered, straightening his posture and saying confindently, "he likes me more." It was one thing he was absolutely certain of.

They just stared at one another for a long time, wills battling. Viktor didn't expect to win. He never did. His father spoke again. "He is stubborn. He decides what he wants and goes for it. He makes solid plans, and, even a stubborn old man like me can see the way he looks at you." He clapped Viktor's shoulders. "As if you are the sun around which all things revolve."

Viktor's cheeks colored a bit, but his father continued. "This man is very serious about you. I hate the way he dresses, like some rockstar."

"Father..." Viktor began to complain.

"Let me finish. I hate the way he dresses, and his Bulgarian, when he tries to speak it, is atrocious. He speaks too casually about dire things, like the war. But," Mr. Krum smiled. It took years off of his stern features, and Viktor tried to remember when the last time he saw such an expression was. He couldn't remember one. "But, he is a good man. Smart. Strong. Brave. I like him. He will be good to you."

Viktor's tension eased and his father pulled him into a manly embrace, slapping his back a few times before releasing him. "But _you_. Do not forget your family just because you are too busy being in love. I expect to see you both here for dinner at least once a month. I will not accept excuses. Your mother worries when she does not see you for so long."

"Yes, sir. I will visit more often. At least, when it is not Quidditch season."

"Bah," the man said. "Always Quidditch with you. You have someone precious now. When are you going to stop playing games and get a real job?"

"Father," Viktor sighed. He was so tired of this conversation. "When I am finished playing Quidditch, if things continue to go so well, I will not _need_ a 'real job' as you call it."

"My son, the layabout," Mr. Krum griped. "At least this Bill of yours has good, respectable work."

Viktor opened his mouth to complain but a knock on the door interrupted him. Kalina entered. "Are you finished scolding Viktor, papa? I have shown Bill all of the good parts of the house. Mama shooed us out of the kitchen."

Viktor glanced between Bill and his father. "Go," Mr. Krum said. "We will talk about it more at another time."

Viktor looked a bit relieved at the interruption.

"So how'd I do?" Bill asked as they left the house and began on their way back to Viktor's apartment.

"Father approves of you," Viktor answered. "I think far more than he approves of me," he added irritably.

Bill quirked a brow inquisitively.

"He does not think Quidditch counts as a real job. He feels I am lazy."

"That's ridiculous. You're amazing," Bill replied.

"He thinks it is only a matter of time before I am injured to badly to continue. He complains about how I will support myself then."

"Well, obviously, you won't have to," Bill grinned, draping an arm over Viktor's shoulders. "That's what you've got me for."

"I am not interested in your money," Viktor replied sardonically.

"So it's not my money," Bill grinned, "and it's definitely not my face...ah! I know, it must be my body."

"Your body is not bad," Viktor answered.

"Not bad, he says!" Bill huffed.

"Not bad," Viktor retorted with a smirk, "but it is your heart that von me over."

Bill snickered a bit. "Such a romantic."

"There is nothing vrong with a _little_ romance," Viktor huffed.

"Well, _Mr. Romance_, why don't we go back to your place, light some candles, and I'll give you another look at just how 'not bad' my body is," Bill teased, pulling Viktor against his chest and pressing a firm kiss to his mouth that he felt in his toes. Merlin, how he adored this shy, sweet man!

Viktor melted into the kiss and pulled back, blushing. "I...think I vould like that," he replied. It seemed surreal--feeling like this, someone else feeling like this about him. _'Well,'_ Viktor thought. _'If life was predictable, it would be boring, I suppose.'_ He wrapped his arm around Bill's waist and curled slightly against his shoulder. With the warmth spread between them, the January chill didn't really stand a chance.


	8. Breaking News

_**VIII. Breaking News**_

_(Ten Months Later, The Burrow)_

They had their habits. Now that Ginny was the only child they had left who hadn't yet moved out and she was back at school, those habits seemed more pronounced thanks to the lack of chaos.

Molly Weasley would make tea and biscuits in the morning. The smell would wake her husband, Arthur, who often came downstairs blearily wearing only one slipper. He would retrieve the _Daily Prophet_ from where it always fell--into a bucket just outside the kitchen window--dust something nonexistent off his sleeve, and sit at the table. He would remove the Entertainment Section, which his wife had always been fond of, and proceed to read the headlines while he ate breakfast without looking at it. He would smirk when she made 'tut' noises at certain celebrities who were always getting into trouble, and lower the paper only when she exclaimed something to the fashion of 'honestly, and she always seemed like such a sweet girl' of some celebrity she had never laid eyes on in person.

Today, however, the system changed. Molly suddenly threw down the paper in a huff. "Oh! That Bill! I don't believe him!" she declared.

Arthur looked up to find that she was reaching for a box on top of the cupboard where he knew she kept her howler paper. Oh dear. Bill hadn't been deserving of a Howler in ages. Either that or she'd simply given up on him until now.

He craned his neck to see the article she was reading and sure enough, there was a picture of their son in the paper. He used his wand to summon it over as Molly began scribbling furiously and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Ah, so that's the reason."

Ten months ago, shortly after Ron and Hermione's wedding, Bill had told his parents that he'd accepted a transfer to Bulgaria. It had seemed a bit random, but they figured it was better than charm-breaking, and he probably just figured it was near his favorite brother. Apparently the story went much deeper than that. Bill was standing there, grinning impishly at the cameras with his arm draped around internationally acclaimed Quidditch player, Viktor Krum. The caption read 'Viktor Krum (left) with his British lover, William Weasley (right) after Bulgaria's smashing victory over France yesterday evening.' The article went on to talk about how, according to Bill, they were 'madly and desperately in love', and that they had moved into a home on the Danube River this past September. It didn't say very much at all about Quidditch.

"He seems to be doing well," Arthur said blandly. With Bill, nothing was a surprise any longer.

"You can _pretend _to be a little mad, Arthur. Honestly! When was he planning on telling us? We're family! Oooh, he's _always _been like this!" Molly ranted.

"Quite right, Molly, I don't see why you expect that he would change now."

"Not expect, really," she huffed. "But sincerely hope, at least." She stuffed the letter into the mail slot and said, "well then, off with you. Give that boy a good talking to for his mum."

***

_(The Riverbed, Bulgaria. One hour later.)_

"Bill, stop that. I am trying to cook," Viktor protested, turning his head away.

Bill, who was embracing him from behind, let go of his earlobe with a little pop. "Who cares about breakfast when there's a sexy man like you standing in the kitchen in his underwear?" he protested playfully.

"You are insatiable," Viktor complained, his cheeks coloring. It was all for show and he knew it. He would last only through breakfast before they spent another lazy Saturday curled up in a heap of blankets a few feet from the fireplace making love. It had been this way ever since they moved into the house, which they had named 'The Riverbed', two months ago. Before then, it was usually a bundle of blankets on the floor of Viktor's apartment, since the bed was not really big enough for the both of them. Now they had a bed with room to spare, but they still liked curling up together by the hearth. Viktor couldn't find any complaint in the habit.

But as his mind wandered, something red flitted past and landed in the butter dish. He blinked. Bill grimaced when he saw the handwriting, but took a deep breath and tore it open. It was best to get it over with quickly:

_'WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY, WHAT EXACTLY IS WRONG WITH YOU?! HERE WE'VE BEEN, WORRIED SICK THAT YOU'RE DEVASTATED ABOUT YOUR DIVORCE AND WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO? YOU'VE BEEN SNOGGING A FAMOUS QUIDDITCH PLAYER! AND YOU'VE MOVED IN WITH HIM AND NOT ONE WORD TO YOUR WORRIED MORTHER SINCE YOU LEFT FOR BULGARIA TEN MONTHS AGO! NOT ONE WORD! DO YOU THINK I'M PSYCHIC?! I NEARLY FAILED DIVINATION AND YOU DAMN WELL KNOW IT, BILL! --the whole subject's a complete waste of time if you ask me-- OH, I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! AND YOUR BROTHER TOO, NOT TELLING ME THAT YOU'VE UP AND FALLEN IN LOVE! HOW DO I HAVE TO FIND OUT THEN? FROM THE **PROPHET** AND TEN MONTHS TOO LATE! WELL, I'VE MADE UP MY MIND! THE HOLIDAYS WILL BE AT YOUR NEW HOME THIS YEAR AND YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO FIND A WAY TO CRAM US ALL IN. IT SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR NOT SAYING ANYTHING. --I'll help cook, of course, dear. And make sure to send out proper invitations. You know Christmas is only a month away."_

The howler exploded, leaving a little smoking singe mark behind. Bill blinked twice, then laughed. "I guess I was so busy shagging you senseless I forgot I didn't tell them..." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Bill, this is not funny!" Viktor complained. "How are ve going to fit so many people in this house?!"

Bill looked around the cottage. He'd built it for two, but the living room was big, and there were two guest rooms upstairs. "Packed in like sardines, I suppose," he answered. "Maybe I should see if Dad still has that tent we used when we all went to the Cup."

"If he does not, I think ve vill have to buy one...or five."

"My family isn't _that _big," Bill said.

"Perhaps not, but if you think _mine_ vill not be insulted if they are not invited, you are delusional."

"Oh. Right. Well, okay, it'll be a little crowded for a few days. But it'll be fun. The more the merrier."

"Whoever made that saying came from a very small family," Viktor replied. His own family wasn't that big--though he seemed to be meeting new uncles he didn't know existed almost constantly, but Bill's...he didn't think he would ever get all of their names straight. When he issued this concern, Bill had just laughed and said he'd given up on anything past second cousins ages ago. He said that any relative he wasn't sure about that he wanted to engage in conversation, he relied on posture and positioning so they knew he was talking to them. So far, no one had caught on.

Viktor sighed. "You start making a list of people to invite," Viktor said. "And I vill finish breakfast."

"Oh fine, fine," Bill complained with a grin. "So serious all the time, Vik, honestly."

"Vell, one of us needs to be," Viktor answered with a soft smile. "And contrary to vhat you have brainvashed my father to believe, it is certainly not you."

"Hey!" Bill said, not able to keep the laugh from his voice. "I haven't brainwashed him. I've just subtly led him to draw conclusions that may not be one-hundred percent true. Are you mad that he likes me more than he likes you?" Bill joked. It wasn't true, but you'd never be able to tell from Mr. Krum's behavior.

"No, of course not. Vhat vas he talking so seriously vith you about after dinner last night?"

Bill grinned. Ah, _that's_ what Viktor was all huffy about. He hated secrets unless he was the one keeping them. "Maybe I don't want to tell you," he teased.

"Then maybe I vill make you sleep on the couch," Viktor huffed.

"Oh fine, you bully. He was asking me when he could expect a wedding invitation. I told him if he can convince the Bulgarian government to legalize gay marriage, then he'll be the first name we put on the guest list."

"Bill!"

"What? You don't _want_ to marry me?"

"That is not the point! You should not--vhat is the saying? Egg him on? Yes, you should not egg him on. He has been organizing all these...avareness things...with the rainbow flags and such, ever since he found out about us. I suppose in a vay it is nice that he finally supports one of my choices, but enough is enough!"

Bill embraced Viktor again. "This is about the swimsuit calendar, isn't it?"

"Of course it is!" Viktor protested, turning rather red in the face. "You should be upset, shouldn't you? You vant half of Bulgaria to see me vearing barely anything at all?!"

"Sure, why not? It 's for a good cause," Bill answered. "Besides, no matter how many people get to ogle you in a speedo, at the end of the day, I'm still the one who gets to take it off."

Viktor turned rather red, and cursed as the smell of burnt pancakes permeated the room. He turned off the flame and pointed his wand toward the window to air out the room. "You ruined breakfast," he complained. "_Again_."

"That's fine," Bill answered, turning Viktor around and planting an eager kiss on his mouth. "I've always preferred brunch anyway."

Viktor sighed and allowed himself to be led into the living room, melting into the kisses Bill laid imploringly along his neck and shoulders. As Bill pulled him down to the familiar pile of blankets by the fire, Viktor thought, _'Well, I guess I'm not _that_ hungry, anyway.'_

Bill nibbled at his throat, his ear, embraced him tightly, but playfully. "You know how much I love you, right?" he murmured.

"I know," Viktor answered between impassioned kisses. "Fervidly."

Bill grinned. It was hard to remember how he had felt before Viktor sometimes--how everything had seemed so bland and colorless. Now, even something as simple as breathing seemed so exciting, so very _worth it. _"Yeah," he answered. "Fervidly."


	9. Epilogue: Family

_**Epilogue: Family**_

_(The Riverbed, Four Years Later, November 29th)_

Bill yawned and scratched the back of his head. Viktor had managed to get him at least tolerably clothed--but that just meant jeans and a sweatshirt--and miraculously out of bed before noon. "I don't see why I can't sleep in on my own birthday," Bill complained, scratching groggily behind his ear as he began to trudge down the stairs. "I've been saying for years I'm more of a brunch guy than a breakfast guy anyway." He pulled Viktor against him, chest to chest, and kissed him deeply.

It was at that moment the living room lit up and a little girl's voice asked "Mama, how come papa is trying to swallow Uncle Viktor's tongue?"

The rest of the room burst out laughing, and managed a clumsy and slightly belated 'Surprise!'

"Because your papa loves your Uncle Viktor very much," Fleur said to the little girl. 'Uncle' Viktor, because Fleur had insisted on making him her godfather in spite of the fact that she already had about a million uncles.

"Ooooohhhhh," Victoire said. "Like you and Papa Neville."

Bill let go of Viktor and made his way down the stairs. He quirked a brow at Fleur's bulging belly as Victoire clung about his thigh. "Hello, Papa! Are you surprised? I was very quiet, wasn't I? Mama said you would be very happy."

He ruffled the girl's hair and smiled, scooping her up. She was clinging to a teddy bear he'd given her as a Christmas gift three years ago--still her favorite, according to her mother. "Very happy," he said, placing a little kiss to her cheek and turning back to Fleur. "Neville, huh?" He eyed her belly pointedly.

"But of course," Fleur answered. "You of all people know I like my men brave," she said proudly. "And 'e is kind, and very smart. 'e is a good second papa to Victoire, and 'e will be a wonderful papa to his own babies too."

Bill laughed. "Already planning on another and this one isn't even out yet, huh?"

"Families with many children are happier. This is what I theenk after having the pleasure of meeting yours." She took Victoire back. "Let your papa greet his other guests. 'e will play with you later, okay petit?"

"Okay! It's a promise, papa!" She stuck her pinky out at him and he shook it with his much larger one.

"A promise," Bill agreed. He moved around the house greeting his guests in turn--Ron and Hermione, his mum and dad. George. Percy. Harry had brought Snape, who to this day looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but was enduring the experience with as much grace as he could muster. In the kitchen, he found Charlie had halfway spelled out 'birthd--' on his cake before getting distracted by his date. Now he was busily snogging Seamus Finnigan.

Bill cleared his throat.

Seamus jumped back. "Oh er, I...this thing. Uh, Happy Birthday and all. So, yeah, uh, I think I heard Ron calling just now." And off he goes, all flushed and embarrassed.

Bill laughed. "Were we ever like that?" Bill asked, pulling Viktor up against him as Charlie fussed with his hair to make it look a bit more presentable, lest their mother insist on cutting it again.

"You veren't," Viktor answered. "I do not think you ever even tried to fake it."

"He's always been that way. Not one bit of shy in Bill," Charlie laughed.

"So," Bill said, changing the subject. "This 'real cutie' you mentioned was Seamus? Think you'll survive the experience?"

Charlie shrugged. "Well, you know, at this point I'm rather used to being set on fire, by accident or otherwise," he laughed. "But never mind that. It's been, what, four years? Inquiring minds need to know: is the honeymoon over?"

Bill laughed and pulled Viktor abruptly into a deep kiss that, in spite of his embarrassment, Viktor couldn't help but melt into, curling his fingers into Bill's long hair. When they parted, Bill smirked at Charlie's amused expression and the way Viktor still needed a moment after they kissed to let his brain return to the present. When it did, the Bulgarian blushed straight to his ears--even after four years together. Bill was sure he would never get tired of that. "Not even close," he answered, keeping Viktor pinned to his side and laying a light kiss to one of his flushed cheeks. "Every night I go to sleep thinking that I can't possibly love Vik any more than I already do, and every morning I wake up and realize I was wrong."

"Bill!" Viktor protested, the blush intensifying, but still unconsciously embracing the red-head. Bill was always saying such wonderful, but incredibly embarrassing, things!

Bill and Charlie laughed. It was the kind of laugh that traced over the years of sorrow that led them here and all the foolish moments worth looking back on. It was the kind of laugh you let out not because something is funny, but because if you don't let it out, you might just die of happiness.

_**~The End~**_


End file.
